Chapter 42: Chapter 42 – Attack Tank! (Part 12)

The meeting spot looked like any other street in the Pot. A building with oxon pipes towered over the crowd. A forger’s was nestled at the bottom of the building, where a woman in her late fifties eyed an blade with the concentration of a hawk. Auto rikshaws tried to push by on the cracked road, not going much faster than the crowd.

Ortho, however, knew it was the meeting spot by the pair of black cat ears that bobbed above the crowd.

Stella was pacing back and forth, wearing a face that looked like it could burn a hoaraboar. The pedestrians that she shared the footpath with smartly gave her a wide berth. Beside her was a small girl in a white dress, who wore a beanie with bunny ears. Even with the bunny ears, she barely reached Stella’s nose. A thin black bag that was nearly as tall as her was slung over one of her shoulders. She was tapping away at her phone.

Ortho approached and yawned as loudly as he could. The teen girl’s head snapped up and she looked like she’d just seen a monster out the dungeon. A few people looked at him funny, including the forger whose concentration he’d just broken.

Ortho ignored them. Nobody smelled strong enough to be a threat to him. Stella was grinding her teeth. Now that was worth his attention!

“Ah, sorry about being late, sister,” Ortho led with. “There are no street signs in the city and I’m not really good at using maps. This city is a maze. I got lost.”

Stella glared at him. “That’s pretty amazing, the honourable warrior of the Booboo-whatever not knowing how to find the busiest street south of the dungeon.”

Ortho wanted to scream at her for insulting his people but decided to keep picking at Stella. He shrugged. “I’m new here.”

The teenage girl’s head perked up. “Oh, me too!”

“He’s been here a year,” Stella hissed. “And I don’t buy it. When you were working for me, you made it to the Ravelin just fine and this street leads directly to it.”

Ortho placed a hand on his side and feigned a wince. “Actually, I’m late because of all these ouchy bruises.”

“Really?” Stella said through gritted teeth.

Ortho noted that her face was completely flat in skin tone, missing the dark bruises he’d seen last night. He wondered what afto she’d bound to pull of that trick. His own face, by comparison, as well as his arms and legs, were covered in light bruises. They ached like Gul when he touched them, too. However, he didn’t look at all like a man that had been beaten senseless, thanks to his wadis protecting him. More like, he looked as though he’d picked a fight and lost.

“Yeah, if someone hadn’t tried to pick a fight with the Buitre,” Ortho said, “I would have never had to step in to defend them and ended up in this state.” He made groaning sounds and leaned forward. “Ah, this is what I get for being such a nice guy.”

The girl standing next to Stella watched him with a sorrowful look. “Oh, that’s awful!”

Ortho gave her a miserable frown. “Thank you for understanding, sister. You seem like a really nice girl.”

The girl’s cheeks went pink and she looked away. “Oh, that’s not true. I’ve done plenty of terrible things before which, if possible, could you please not ask about them?” Through the scent of her burning embarrassment, Ortho got a hint of her natural odour: cold stone and plush wool.

“Luci, who’s side are you on?” Stella growled.

Luci waved a hand defensively, and with the other she gripped the black bag that was slung over her shoulder to stop it from falling. “No, I’m not taking anyone’s side, Ms. Stella.”

Ortho groaned again. “Ah, the pain!”

“Are you okay, mister? Those Cartel jerks didn’t break anything, did they?”

Stella muttered, “Luci, what did I tell you?”

“That Mr. Nubah Kilebhi is a bad man that put you in debt?”

“What a nice girl,” Ortho said. “You even pronounced my name properly.”

Luci blushed. “Oh, thank you. I had the pleasure of meeting some elders from the Nahrul Haja tribe at a ball when I was—oh, I really shouldn’t talk about that.”

Stella made a hissing sound, but Ortho interrupted her before she could step in. “I’m Ortho of Nubah Kilebhi. The second part of my name is my tribe’s, not a family name. We don’t have those where I’m from.”

Luci’s eyes bulged. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m still learning the customs of the Huhl Hademi. And I haven’t even properly introduced myself.”

She lowered her head until she was bent perpendicular. Long, grey hair draped down off her shoulder and down past her knees. Her bag slipped off her shoulder. Before it fell to the floor, threads traced out from her hand and she yanked the bag back into her grip.

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“My name is Luci Ani—Luci Black. I shall be your lambaster for this expedition. I know I’m a little young, but I can assure you that I’ll do my very best in the dungeon.”

Ortho eyed the girl. “Sister, you don’t need to worry about age. I was fighting monsters ever since I turned twelve. If this were Huhl Hadem, your parents would already be trying to marry you off to a boy from a strong family.”

Luci’s eyes darted to the side. “Oh, is that so?” she said in a shaky voice. “That sounds horrible.”

Ortho shrugged. “It’s harsh there. Monsters roam the lands. The whole country is a literal dungeon. You need to do what you have to if you want to survive.”

“I’ve heard stories that the warriors of Huhl Hadem are quite fearsome,” Luci said.

Ortho choked out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s a cute word for insane. Fighting for survival every day would do that to you. Anyway, where’s the rest of your party?”

“Oh, our s-support?” Luci stammered. Her eyes shifted briefly to an alleyway beside the forger’s. “He’s, er, not here!”

Stella raised a hand and pointed at the alleyway. “Help. Now.”

Ortho’s tongue rolled around in his mouth. “You know, if you’re going to send me on a mission, you could at least give me my gear.”

The look Stella gave him said that no more negotiation would be had, under threat of being strangled in his sleep. Still, Ortho wasn’t going to back down. He crossed his arms and glared at her.

Then Luci whipped her head down into a bow and she said in a rush, “If you’d be so kind, Mr. Ortho.”

Sighing, Ortho walked into the alleyway—slowly, to spite Stella.

There was nothing of note in the shaded alleyway. Some steel scraps and crates had been tossed to the side, all seemingly coming from the surrounding businesses that lined the busy street. Some dumpsters lined the walls, leaving barely enough room for an auto rikshaw to fit through. Enmaneth knew how they got the things out of there and into the trash moving vehicles. The city workers probably had some special tool for that too, like everything else in this metal prison.

The whole thing smelled of steel, concrete, and garbage, though this particular alley was more on the garbage side. The weird smells coming from the neighbouring forgers made it hard to pinpoint anything of note.

He turned back to the alleyway entrance. “What in Gul am I supposed to be doing?”

Stella’s head was poking around the corner. Her eyes were bloodshot and fixed on him, unblinking. She slowly raised a hand and pointed a slender finger at the nearest dumpster.

Ortho’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Ha ha, I’m trash. Good joke—”

The dumpster rattled. Ortho turned slowly and eyed it suspiciously. Did she want him to fight whatever was in this dumpster? He had no idea what was going on.

He shrugged and edged towards it. “What is it? Did you stuff a monster in there to ambush me?”

Luci, her head poking around the corner beneath Stella’s, blinked in confusion. “But it’s not possible for there to be a monster in a dumpster. Without the protection of a lodestar, they fizzle away pretty quickly. The only lodestars in Anypaxia are dungeon floor bosses and the minor regional bosses. I’m fairly certain there are none of those managed to escape.”

“Hey, Stella, aren’t you a grupp farmer?” Ortho said with a smirk. “It could be one of yours. Overland monsters like grupps don’t fizzle.”

“Open it!” Stella shrieked. “Open it now and die.”

Ortho shook his head. It was probably some dumb attempt to get him back. Well, he wasn’t going to be caught out. He started flowing enma into his wadis.

He stopped before the dumpster, just out of arm’s reach. It rattled again. His heart was pounding in his chest. The scent it emitted was confusing, stifling. A thousand different concepts mingled together in the distinct confusion of warped aftos. Then he put a hand to his face.

“Pfft! What am I worried about,” he said under his breath. “It’s not like that useless fence found someone strong enough to hurt—”

The lid of the dumpster snapped open. Ortho didn’t have enough time to react before two scarred hands grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him in.

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